


Knit One, Purl Two, Is How I Say "I Love You"

by Ignisentis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Did I mention fluff?, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Idiots in Love Taking Care of Each Other Via Knitwear, Knitting, Knitting puns, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Swearing, Sweaters, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, everyone is soft, lots of sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 04:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20772359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ignisentis/pseuds/Ignisentis
Summary: Bucky looks up from the book he’s reading at the sound of the familiar gentle clacking of the wooden needles Steve has always preferred to use when he’s knitting. He used to knit back in the day whenever he wasn’t drawing. He said it helped calm him down, that he liked making things, especially for Bucky, that it made him feel like he was contributing more since it was hard for him to hold down a regular job.Bucky thought it was all of those things but also that Steve Rogers was never the kind of man who could keep his hands still.He used to knit Bucky socks and hats and scarves whenever he could get his hands on some yarn. He’d always wanted to make a sweater but never could get the same kind of yarn in sweater quantities.Now, though. Now Bucky has a handful of sweaters that Steve’s made for him: a cable-knit fisherman’s sweater with a shawl collar; a simple pullover; a replica of Steve’s WWII dancing monkey sweater he wore on stage that Steve gave him with a smirk; a chunky Tweed cardigan with elbow patches; the lightest, most sumptuous cashmere henley-style pullover; even a Fair Isle with the Ghostbusters symbol worked into the yoke. Fuck, but Bucky loves that movie. And the sweater.





	Knit One, Purl Two, Is How I Say "I Love You"

**Author's Note:**

> I knit, and I love knitting, and it makes me feel all soft inside, so of course when it came time to add my own work to the CapSeptender challenge, I went with a knitting theme. Because it's almost sweater weather where I live, and nothing is better than a warm sweater, a hot beverage, and a project on my needles. 
> 
> The yarn store in this fic exists, and it's my local, and I love it dearly. I know yarn can be expensive, but if you knit and it's at all possible for you, please support your local when you can. Most of them are lovely places. But if you can't, don't ever feel guilty about getting your yarn wherever and for however much you can afford it. It's more important that you create and enjoy doing it than it is to feel guilty about something you love.

Bucky looks up from the book he’s reading at the sound of the familiar gentle clacking of the wooden needles Steve has always preferred to use when he’s knitting. He used to knit back in the day whenever he wasn’t drawing. He said it helped calm him down, that he liked making things, especially for Bucky, that it made him feel like he was contributing more since it was hard for him to hold down a regular job. 

Bucky thought it was all of those things but also that Steve Rogers was never the kind of man who could keep his hands still. 

He used to knit Bucky socks and hats and scarves whenever he could get his hands on some yarn. He’d always wanted to make a sweater but never could get the same kind of yarn in sweater quantities. 

Now, though. Now Bucky has a handful of sweaters that Steve’s made for him: a cable-knit fisherman’s sweater with a shawl collar; a simple pullover; a replica of Steve’s WWII dancing monkey sweater he wore on stage that Steve gave him with a smirk; a chunky Tweed cardigan with elbow patches; the lightest, most sumptuous cashmere henley-style pullover; even a Fair Isle with the Ghostbusters symbol worked into the yoke. Fuck, but Bucky loves that movie. And the sweater.

His favorite one, though, is a massively oversized shaker-stitch hoodie made from the softest Merino wool. Steve handed it to him on his way out the door, suited up and mission ready. “I’ll see you when I get back, babe,” he’d said, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. 

Bucky had watched him go, the sweater clutched to his chest. He lifted it to his face after Steve closed the door behind himself, inhaling Steve’s scent that lingered in the wool. Fuck, he must have worn it or put it in with his other clothes or something because it smelled so much like him. Bucky’s not sure how Steve figured out that he liked to grab Steve’s hoodies and comfort clothes and wear them while Steve was out on missions, but he’s not going to question it when it results in amazing presents like this. And Steve’s always been surprisingly perceptive. It catches Bucky off guard sometimes, though he really should be used to it by now.

He pulled the sweater over his head and sighed happily at how soft and warm it was, how it felt like being enveloped by Steve. He wore it the entire time Steve was out on his mission, and wow, who knew a sweater could help with his anxiety so much. 

When Steve came home, cut and bruised and battle-weary, Bucky had launched himself at Steve like a furious monkey, wrapping his limbs around Steve and holding on for dear life. Steve grunted and gripped Bucky’s thighs, cooing at him that he was fine, he was home, everything was okay now. And then had not-so-subtly suggested a long bath for the both of them. Which...point, Bucky hadn’t really showered or anything the entire two weeks Steve was gone, so yeah, he was due. It’s just...if he showered, then he’d have to take off the sweater, and it would probably smell like soap and body wash instead of like Steve. Which was unacceptable.

Three weeks later, Steve presented Bucky with two more of the oversized hoodie sweaters in different colors, and Bucky had burst into tears as he clutched them to his chest. Steve had just wrapped his arms around both Bucky and the sweaters and shuffled them all to the bedroom, where he laid Bucky down and cuddled him into oblivion.

“I love them,” Bucky said later, when he’d resurfaced. Steve had hummed at him and started running his fingers through Bucky’s hair. Bucky leaned into it like a pampered housecat. “The sweaters, I mean.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m glad you like them.”

“I like you.”

“Good, because you’re stuck with me.”

“Not if you’re stuck with me first.”

Steve snorts. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Don’t care, no takesies backsies.”

“Well, in that case,” Steve laughed, and he’s so beautiful it made Bucky’s heart clench, so the only thing to do was to pinch Steve with his metal fingers, laugh at Steve’s indignant yelp, and then kiss him to make it better. 

“Hey,” Steve says, pulling Bucky from his trip down memory lane. “Did you know a bolt of lightning contains enough energy to toast 100,000 slices of bread?” Bucky smiles back fondly. Steve’s gotten really good at using random facts to pull Bucky out of his own head when he starts spiraling into negative thoughts, which Bucky wholeheartedly appreciates. It’s way less pressure to listen to Steve spout off random trivia than having to answer a “what are you thinking about?” or a “penny for your thoughts” or a “hey, you okay?” Bucky frowns as he wonders where he finds all these facts. Maybe he searches on the internet or has a bunch of books or something. But Bucky’s never noticed him reading any fact books. Then again, it’s not like he spends every moment with Bucky. And Steve’s stupid eidetic memory means he remembers most everything he reads, so all he’d have to do is read one list online and he’d be set for a — 

“Marie Curie’s notebooks are still radioactive.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“Huh. Anyway, I wasn’t upset, so don’t worry. I was just thinking about where you find those facts you’re always spouting off.”

“Oh, well, usually I —”

“No, don’t tell me! I don’t want to spoil the magic.”

“The magic. Of useless facts.”

“They’re more interesting when I don’t know how you learned them.”

“You have a very warped view of what’s interesting, but I guess I’ll allow it.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

Steve pauses his knitting to make as exaggerated a bow as he can while sitting in a massively overstuffed armchair. “I aim to please, your highness.”

Bucky gives a royally dismissive wave, and Steve laughs, picking up his needles and resuming his knitting. Bucky watches him for a while. One of the many bonuses of being a supersoldier is super fast knitting speed, and it’s impossible for Bucky to tell what Steve’s actually doing. It just looks like a blur of wood and wool.

“Speaking of magic…” Bucky says, a touch of awe in his voice.

“What, this? Knitting? It’s not magic, Buck.”

“You’re right. It’s witchcraft,” Bucky says, recoiling dramatically.

Steve snorts. “Okay, Lord Farquad.”

Bucky chokes. “Steve! Lord Farquad? Are you shitting me with that?”

“Sorry, Governor Ratcliff.”

Bucky gasps and puts his hand across his chest and starts sputtering, and he can’t even get any words out to tell Steve how incredibly fucking wrong he is.

“Clayton?”

“Steven Grant Rogers!!!” Bucky squeals. Steve throws his head back and starts laughing, and oh, shit, he was totally messing with him. “You were totally messing with me weren’t you, you asshole!” Steve smirks and raises his eyebrow, chuckling under his breath. “You dick,” Bucky huffs, pouting a little for effect.

“You like it when I’m a dick.”

“I like your dick, which isn’t necessarily the same thing.”

“Close enough for horseshoes and hand grenades.”

“Seriously, though. How do you knit like that?”

Steve pauses again and looks over at Bucky, failing to hide his surprise at Bucky’s question. “Do you want me to teach you?”

Bucky feels like a bit of an ass. Steve’s been knitting for...well, going on 55 years or so if you go by the calendar, and never once has Bucky ever asked Steve to teach him. Or even taken much of an interest, really. Which is kind of a shitty thing to do when it’s been such a big part of Steve’s life.

“Yeah, babe, I do want that. Will you?” 

The look on Steve’s face when Bucky says that — well, excited Labrador is the thing that pops into Bucky’s head first. “Yeah, I — yeah, oh, my gosh. Okay. Hold on, let me go get you your own needles and some yarn and stuff, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t move. I’m just gonna — okay, here I go.” Steve stands up and freezes a little bit, just staring at Bucky with this look of wonder on his face, and yeah, Bucky feels like a massive asshole now.

He gets up and walks over to Steve, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Go get the stuff, Steve.”

“Yeah! Yeah. Here I go.” Steve smiles, leaning in for another kiss before he heads down the hallway to the spare room where he keeps his yarn stash and needles and whatever else he uses when he’s knitting. The craft room, Bucky supposes. He’s never actually gone in there. Huh, he’s never gone in there. Well, no time like the present to remedy that oversight.

Steve left the door open, so Bucky just walks in. One wall is covered with this massive storage system that looks kind of like a bookshelf but is all cubes. Each cube has a basket lined with fabric, filled with yarn. Lots and lots of yarn. Clearly it’s organized to Steve’s exacting standards, but Bucky has no idea exactly what those standards are. Three of the cubes are filled with knitting books. There’s a small desk in the room against another wall that has all sorts of patterns and charts and graph paper and stuff all over it, as well as a potted plant that looks surprisingly healthy.

There’s another of Steve’s favorite overstuffed armchairs with an ottoman under the window on the far wall, with a little end table, a floor lamp slightly behind the chair for extra light. The walls are painted a soothing green, and Steve’s decorated the room with his own sketches. Of Bucky. Huh, are they all…? Yeah, they are all of him. Oh, god, that is too fucking cute.

“I like what you’ve done with the room,” Bucky says as Steve’s half buried in the closet, frantically searching for something. Steve yelps and crashes to the floor, and he looks so ridiculous that Bucky can’t help but laugh at him before making his way over and pulling Steve upright.

He kisses him and then does it again, because he can and because Steve lets him. Because Steve wants him to, and because he just cannot help himself. He loves this man so much, so goddamn much, that sometimes he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t get his lips on him, his hands on him, if he doesn’t feel the press of his body, if he doesn’t feel his breath hot against his cheeks, his neck.

He turns his head to the side and leans down a bit so he can press his ear to Steve’s chest and hear his heartbeat. It always speeds up slightly when Bucky does this, and he loves that he can hear it happen. “I’m sorry I never asked you to teach me before.”

Steve runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, pausing at his scalp each pass to scratch his scalp a bit. “It’s okay. I know it’s not your thing.”

“But it is your thing, and it has been for a while. It’s a big part of your life, and I’m sorry I didn’t express more interest. That was a shitty thing to do.”

Steve leans down to kiss Bucky’s head. “Apology accepted, then.” Bucky hums and lets Steve card his fingers through his hair a few more times before pulling away.

“All right, Rogers. Teach me your magical knitting ways.” Steve huffs out a laugh and goes back to the closet to find whatever he was looking for before. He gives the most adorable “ah-ha” when he finds it, and holds it out of the closet with his hand, his torso still hidden. It’s a tote bag with a picture of a knitting cat printed on the side. Fuck, that’s adorable.

He shuffles out of the closet and brings the bag over, presenting it to Bucky with a dopey smile on his face. “Here, this is for you.” Bucky takes the bag and looks inside. There’s a whole set of knitting needles, a few balls of yarn in the most sumptuous orange, and a little zippered pouch with little bits and bobs inside that he’s sure Steve will explain to him. It’s a kit, he realizes. A beginner’s kit. Steve must have made this for him and has been waiting to give it to him. For a long time, if how buried it was in the closet is any indication. 

Bucky’s chest clenches again. “Steve…”

Steve shakes his head, so Bucky lets Steve change the subject. “It will be easier if I’m sitting next to you so you can watch me and copy my motions, so do you want to go back out to the living room and sit on the couch?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Can we do it in here? It’s cozy. I like it. Maybe we can sit on the floor or something?”

“Sure, Buck. I’ll go get some pillows and blankets and stuff. We’ll tuck in.” Steve comes back laden with soft things, and they do make a sort of nest. It’s perfect. Bucky feels a bit overwhelmed, a tear escaping his eye and tracking down his cheek. Steve frowns but Bucky shakes his head before he can say anything.

“I’m happy is all.”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “Me too.”

Turns out Steve’s a really good knitting teacher. He tells Bucky he’s a natural, but Bucky’s not sure about that. Whatever the reason, he takes to knitting like a fox takes to tricks, and he’s not sure why he never tried this knitting business earlier. It’s so relaxing and wonderful and fun. The repetition of the stitches soothes his noisy brain, and so he keeps going and going, just one more row, just one more row. By the end of their first lesson, Bucky’s halfway done with a scarf, and he’s completely hooked.

Steve’s looking at him like he wants to unhinge his jaw and swallow Bucky whole, and fuck if that isn’t a trip and a half. Bucky’s inclined to let him, too, so he carefully sets his knitting out of the way, does the same for Steve’s, and then crawls into Steve’s lap and thoroughly defiles his man.

Later at dinner, Steve’s just picking at his food, which is completely unlike him. That body needs calories, and Steve generally has no compunctions about providing them. Sometimes in disgusting quantities and table manners. So clearly something is wrong. Bucky frowns and tries to think back through the day to see if there’s anything Steve would be worried about.

“Did you know that —”

“No,” Bucky cuts him off. “I was worried about you. You’re not eating. What’s up?”

Steve blushes and puts his fork down. “Oh, nothing. I’m fine.”

“Steve, come on. Please tell me. I can handle it, whatever it is, you know I can.”

Steve looks up at Bucky and holds his gaze. “I know you can. It’s nothing, honestly. Or, well, it’s just stupid.”  
Bucky nudges Steve’s foot under the table. “Tell me anyway.”

“I just, uh...did you like it? Knitting, I mean?” 

Oh, no, Bucky’s heart can’t take Steve’s tentative delivery, his hopeful little smile, that vulnerable admission. God, he’ll never get over how Steve just puts himself in Bucky’s hands to break him over and over and over, trusting blindly that he won’t. 

“Yeah, Steve, I did. I loved it, actually. I can’t believe I never asked you to teach me before. I want to have another lesson tomorrow, if you’re free. Can we?”

Steve’s smile is blinding, and oh, he looks so young just now that it makes Bucky’s breath catch in his throat. He’s up and out of his seat before Steve can even answer, practically sprinting over to Steve to lean down and kiss him soundly on the lips. Steve grunts and grasps at Bucky’s hips and gets with the program, kissing back just as fiercely.

“Bedroom, Steve. Now.” Steve nods and manages to stand up without cracking Bucky in the head, which he fully appreciates.

Steve takes his jolly old time taking Bucky apart once they get there, and oh, if he’d known the dick was gonna be this good after some knitting, he would have started lessons years ago. Which apparently, in his lust-addled state, he’d said out loud, if Steve’s sudden burst of laughter is any indication. “I love the fuck out of you, James Barnes,” Steve says, all goofy-like, and Bucky kisses him stupid because what else can you do when confronted with that kind of devotion from a man like Steve Rogers?

Bucky is confused the next day when Steve has him continue practicing his knit stitches and doesn’t teach him anything new. “It’s all about practice and repetition, Buck,” he says. “You see how your stitches here are bigger than the ones over here?”

“Huh. Yeah.”

“That means your tension is off. You’re holding the yarn looser here where the stitches are bigger and tighter here, where the stitches are smaller. See how my stitches are all even? That’s because I’m used to working the yarn at a consistent tension. In other words, I don’t let the yarn get too tight or loose as I’m making my stitches. That comes with practice.”

“Got it. So once I’ve gotten the tension right on my knit stitches, what then?”

“Then I’ll teach you to purl.”

“Bring it on, baby.” Steve snorts and rolls his eyes, and they get back to work. Bucky knits and knits, and by the end of the next day’s lesson, Steve deems him ready to start purling. He learns how to purl, then cast on, then stockinette, then rib. When his ribbing looks good, Steve smiles and kisses Bucky’s cheek.

“Congratulations, Buck. You’re ready for the next step.”

“And what’s that?”

“A trip to the yarn store to pick out some yarn for your first scarf.”

“Seriously? You have a ton of yarn in this room. Why don’t I just use some of this?”

Steve shakes his head. “I mean, you could, but trust me, there’s something magical about picking out your first skeins. You’ll see. Trust me?”

“Jeez, of course I trust you. Put those puppy eyes away before you hurt someone.” Steve laughs and kisses Bucky’s cheek again, and the two of them head down to the garage and hop on Steve’s bike. They pull into this little shopping plaza about twenty minutes from their place, and Steve holds out his hand and leads them to the yarn store.

The yarn store that is called, to Bucky’s chagrin and Steve’s apparent glee, Kid Ewe Knot. 

Kid. Ewe. Knot.

“Steve. That pun. I don’t think I can do this.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby. Knitters love their puns, and this is an especially good one, so be nice.”

“A good one,” Bucky sputters. 

The little bell above the door jingles when they walk in, and Bucky is immediately struck by how much yarn one small store can pack on its walls. The two long walls in the shop are covered in the same sort of cube storage Steve has in his knitting room, except these cubes are tilted into diamond shapes. And there’s so much color. Bucky isn’t sure where to look first. It’s a little overwhelming, but also exciting.

“Steve, hi!” the woman behind the checkout counter chirps, coming out to give Steve a little hug. “You must be Bucky. Steve’s told us so much about you.” She doesn’t offer her hand for a shake, nor does she come in for a hug, so Steve must have told them about his aversion to strangers touching him. And she remembered. Bucky exhales a little and feels intense relief. 

“I am. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Is there something I can help you find or do you want to let Steve take you around and explore some?”

“Uh, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather Steve did it.”

“Of course! Take your time and don’t mind me, okay? I’ll be back behind the counter if you have any questions.”

“Thank you.”

She looks over at Steve and mouths “he’s so cute!” which makes Steve blush, before looking back at Bucky with a wink. Oh, he’s starting to like this woman. Anyone who can get Steve all flustered like that is a-okay in Bucky’s book.

Steve walks him around the store, telling Bucky about yarn weight and plies and hand feel and all sorts of things, and it’s wonderful to see him so in his element. He suggests a worsted weight for Bucky’s scarf since it will knit up way faster than the fingering yarn Bucky seems to be drawn to. Which makes sense, it’s just...the fingering yarn is so pretty and has so many colors and dye patterns and okay, yeah, he’s starting to see how Steve ended up with an entire room full of yarn. Bucky only needs like three skeins for his project, and he’s already decided he likes ten.

“If I may,” the woman from before interjects, “you can double up fingering yarn, and it’s pretty much the same as a worsted weight at that point.” Steve’s eyes widen, and his mouth makes an “oh” shape, and Bucky’s not really sure what just happened, but maybe it’s good?

“She means you can get this yarn that you really like, Buck, and just hold two strands together instead of one strand, and it will knit up the same as a worsted weight.”

“I’m still only half sure what you’re talking about, but yes, let’s do that, please.” Steve laughs, and Bucky can’t decide between three different yarns, so he decides to fuck it and get enough to make a scarf in all three of the ones he likes best. Steve, the bastard, looks two seconds away from crying, he’s so proud. 

Bucky sticks out his tongue at him, which does, in fact, make Steve cry a little. The woman looks a little concerned, but Steve wipes his eyes and shakes his head at her and sighs happily. Bucky brings his purchases to the register and finally remembers his manners and asks the woman’s name. She owns the store, and Bucky thinks it’s pretty rad that she gets to turn her passion for knitting into a store where she gets to help other people further their own, so he says so. She smiles at Bucky and thanks him, then asks if he wants to join their loyalty program. Apparently after six purchases he’ll get a percentage of his total back as a gift card, and hell yes, that sounds cool.

Now Steve looks three seconds away from throwing Bucky to the floor and riding him into the sunset, so Bucky decides the best course of action is to avoid eye contact at all cost because he actually really likes this little store, and he doesn’t want to give the owner a heart attack.

Plus, their logo has a really cute sheep, and the pun has grown on him, so it would be a waste to never be allowed to show their faces in here again.

He pays for his things, and the owner tells him to have Steve send her a picture of Bucky’s first project so they can post it on their Facebook page and celebrate him, name and other personal details left out, of course. Bucky’s really touched by that and agrees, thanking the woman and waving goodbye as they exit the store.

Steve does, in fact, throw him to the floor and ride him into the sunset as soon as they get home. 

His first scarf is passable, the second one even better, but the third one? The third one is actually good. He gives it to Steve, who looks so happy that Bucky physically can’t look at his face. It’s like staring directly into the sun. He’s surprised he isn’t blind.

“I get it now,” he tells Steve. “Making something and giving it to someone you love? It’s a really heady feeling. It’s addictive.”

Steve wraps the scarf around his neck and kisses Bucky on the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I really like knitting with you.”

Bucky learns and expands his knitting skills and even takes some classes at Kid Ewe Knot. Steve was right, he really does love that pun now. By the time Steve’s sent away on a three-week mission, Bucky thinks he’s ready to try something truly ambitious, so he heads to the yarn store and asks the workers for help with his plan.

Steve finally comes home, bruised and battered and battle-weary, to find Bucky resting on the couch, a wrapped box with an ornate bow on the top sitting in front of him on the coffee table.

“What’s this?” Steve asks, dropping his shield bag and duffel on the floor and making his way over to Bucky.

“It’s for you.”

Steve frowns. “It’s not my birthday.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “No shit. It doesn’t have to be your birthday for me to give you a present. Just open it, dumbass.”

Steve smiles. “I missed you too, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky snarks but smiles back. Steve rips the paper off the package, carefully thumbing away the tape and opening the box. He unfolds the tissue paper surrounding his gift inside and gasps when his gift is revealed. 

“Bucky, did you — did you make this?” Steve pulls out a dark charcoal pullover sweater. It’s pretty simple, mostly just knit stitches with a few strategic bands of seed stitch around the biceps and chest, but Bucky thinks it came out pretty darn well, if he does say so himself.

“Yeah, I did. Heather at the shop helped me with a pattern and sizing and picking out yarn. I hope it fits okay.”

Steve pulls off his shirt and puts on the sweater, and yeah, it fits okay. More than okay, holy hell. Steve looks luscious. He looks good enough to eat. “Holy shit, Steve, is this how you feel whenever I wear a sweater that you made for me?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Again, holy shit. Okay, please kiss me immediately, and then take me to bed, but be careful with that sweater because I worked really hard on it and I’d like it to last more than one day so we can do this every time you wear it because it is inspirational, let me tell you.”

Steve laughs and kisses Bucky and takes him to bed, carefully folding his sweater and putting it in a drawer. And wow, Bucky never knew that folding clothes could be foreplay like that, but he’s gonna go with it and say he’s learned something today.

Bucky wakes the next morning with a groan. Steve’s side of the bed is already long gone cold, so he must have really slept in. He stretches and groans again before rolling out of bed and hopping in the shower. There’s coffee in the pot when he gets to the kitchen, which he acknowledges with a grunt. He pours himself some Count Chocula and takes his time eating it, slurping down the now-chocolate milk when he’s done with the bowl.

He makes his way to the living room looking for Steve when he hears the telltale clacking of Steve’s knitting needles. Bucky smiles and walks into the room, dropping a kiss on Steve’s head before grabbing his own knitting project bag. Steve smiles at him when he flops down on the couch close to Steve, pulling out the hat he’s been working on and adding the clacking of his own needles, in perfect harmony with Steve’s.


End file.
